Endings Not Yet Written
by Sleepy Lotus
Summary: ...He prayed that their foolish bravado hadn't ruined it all, that it wasn't too late to change their ending. Uncross their stars. Tear out the last page, and write a new one... Henry/Vicki, post season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was a rare woman who could elude Henry Fitzroy, but somehow, _she _had managed.

Of course, _she _was a rare woman.

Hard as a rock, yet not made of stone.

She was not pretty in the way he usually preferred his lovers. Her eyes were too sharp, her jaw too strong. But still, she was beautiful in her very own, very special way.

Captivating.

She had him hook, line, and sinker, as they say.

But he did not have her.

He'd been obsessed with her from nearly the first. What moment? Was it after carrying her in his arms, after their first meeting? Watching her resting form, hoping to god he hadn't injured her in his reflexive strike?

Or perhaps it was after waking to the sight of her bare back, hourglass waist, all the toned muscle of a woman who trained for that moment when she just might have to run for her life, or someone else's.

The memory of that black lace brassiere had occupied his mind, his imagination, his darkest most delicious thoughts, for months after.

Yes, she was hard as a rock, but not made of stone. She loved, she loved people deeply. Why else would she fight so bravely, give up so much of herself to protect her fellow humans, people she did not even know, but somehow claimed responsibility for? Despite her cynical nature, deep down she held a strong faith in the goodness of people, the sanctity of life, in every man and woman's right to live a safe life.

Perhaps more specifically, she loved Mike, without a doubt. She would die for him.

And she loved him too. Of this he was certain, though she could never quite let down her shields enough to let him in. she would make a deal with the devil to save him from an Incan priest's black magic, but she could not reconcile why, or allow herself to reap the rewards of her loyalty to him.

Of his love for her.

He could not win her, nor coerce her. He never could get past her shields.

And so he was leaving instead. Running away. He'd told her the reason was the demon Astaroth. He'd begged her to come with him, to run away to a new life together.

He told himself he wanted to go because he was afraid of what would happen if he stayed in that city, but in the end Henry FitzRoy could only lie to himself so much.

He was leaving because of her. Because he couldn't stand to be near her but not have her any longer.

He thought of their adventure with the incubus. How the demon cum gardener had sensed her longing, had visited her in her sleep to touch her. And how she'd gone to him soon after, and uncertain look in her eye as she asked if he'd just been with her. If it was _his_ hands running all over her body. How he'd envied the demon, resented him for taking privileges he himself had yet to win.

And he would find out, over the next year, they were intimate privileges that would never become his, no matter what he tried. No matter how he tried to woo her, no matter how many passes or poems or paintings of her as the star in his own personal comic book fantasies. No matter how many cases they solved, or how many times he saved her life. Saved her from her own bull-headedness.

Henry would be gone in a month, and that was that.

End of story.

She would be the one who got away, a lover longed for but never tasted.

_Hello, heart break, old friend._

His gut clenched at the thought, that old familiar ache.

Why? How was this possible? How could two people possible care for each other so much, and never be together?

It was absurd.

Henry looked to the clock. Three Am. He felt the strongest desire to speak to her, to argue with her, anything. But probably she was asleep. His heart called out, it would have no logic that night, nor take any guff from pride either. He thought on the way she had cried, as Mike walked out on her, and then he himself.

It was the most vulnerable he'd ever witnessed her. For all her love and sacrifice, in the end, it seemed she would end up alone. Where was the justice in that? But she was too proud. She would not go to her other lover, she would not beg. And neither would she come knocking on his door again.

Pride--the coddling of the ego, of self image--it all boiled down to cowardice in the end. So if she was a coward -- well -- he was too, wasn't he?

They were both running from something that could hurt them, physically or emotionally. He wrestled with his thoughts, his imagination, perhaps overactive at that.

He thought of that boy he'd met briefly, the reincarnated star-crossed lover. The boy had plotted to do something drastic to win his wife back, and perhaps at his most level-headed, channeling Victoria herself, he had advised that though once one could steal a horse or storm a castle, those days were done for. That when a woman told you to go, that was what you did.

Yet had he not also complained that true romance had died, that men had no idea how to treat a woman anymore? The death knells of poetry and courting fell upon deaf ears -- they went with hardly a scream, slipping away like love itself, if not given half the chance it deserves.

Henry growled, pacing the floor. He was in a _mood _to storm a castle that night. Who better to scale the trellis, than a prince in the flesh? Who better to breath life back into the lost art of loving a woman, than a resurrected romantic? Was he not failing himself in his flight, doing them both a disservice by leaving her alone to her fears of exposing her heart?

The vampire sighed, knowing what he must attempt to do, even if he already knew he was destined to fail. What was one more chance to make a fool of himself with her? One more opportunity for rejection?

He prayed that their foolish bravado hadn't ruined it all, that it wasn't too late to change their ending. Uncross their stars. Tear out the last page, and write a new one. Whole new chapters, with illustrations to make good Christians blush. Floating on the wings of a new hope, Henry snatched up his coat, and rushed from the apartment. He had a sleeping P.I. to rouse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ms. Victoria Nelson slept, but not soundly. It was the restlessness of a troubled soul, and unsatisfied heart. Henry watched her toss and turn with the still silence only the undead can master. He could not yet bring himself to touch her, to caress her in the rash act he'd fantasized earlier.

This is absurd, he thought, now that he stood with her before him. What was he thinking? She would certainly have a few scathing words if she could see him, stalking about like a criminal in the shadows. He was about to go, when a haunting sound met his ears.

"Henry," she murmured, causing him to freeze in his tracks, certain he'd been caught. But no, she still slept, brow furrowed with the distress of a dream. He took a step closer, and she turned, gripping her pillow with white knuckles. "I'm so sorry," she said softly, words slurred by sleep. "Henry, please!"

His name upon her lips filled with such longing broke his will to leave the room, causing him to appear at her side immediately. She stirred as his weight pressed into the bedside. "Vicki," he whispered, manicured finger brushing her hair. She sighed at his touch, leaning into his hand. His fingers wandered of their own accord across her cheek, finding the damp runnels of tears. His jaw clenched at the evidence of the pain he'd caused her. "Vicki, my love," he sighed remorsefully. "Only in your sleep will you allow your heart to bleed."

Her pulse quickened as his hand traveled downwards, sweeping over her neck, caressing her shoulder. He marveled at the softness of her skin, the fine golden hairs that raised in gooseflesh as he touched her. His own pulse quickened as his fingers curled in the edge of the sheet that covered her, draping her curves as a range of blue swathed mountains he wanted to climb. He wanted to explore every curve, know every cave and peak and crag.

Though he no longer needed to breathe, his breath hitched in his throat as he drew down the sheet, revealing the woman he desired so fervently. With every fiber of his vampire being. She sighed, happily, as he caressed her arm, leaning over her, brushing lips against her shoulder. "Let me in, Vicki," he whispered into her ear, causing the sleeping PI to stir, shifting her hips to turn towards him, lips curled.

She brushed her nose against his cheek, and it was all he could do not to fall upon her at that very moment. "Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved." He brushed his lips against hers, and she craned her neck to meet him, following as a flower will turn to the sun.

Henry could sense that she was waking more and more with every passing moment, returning from the fog of dream to reality. Suddenly he found himself staring down into bright eyes, clearly surprised to find him leaning over her.

"Henry?"

"My lady."

He gave one of his characteristic fey smiles that lit up his eyes with a mischievous light. But also around his eyes was the tension of urgency, his body thrumming with desire, the need to know her, to be invited to explore her sweet charms.

He watched the emotions play across her face. Her first, defensive reaction to everything, distance, fogged by the weight of sleep impeding her usually razor sharp mind. Without her quick snarky jokes, her instant reflex to dodge him, to push him away, there was the raw need she always felt, underneath it all, not buried beneath her usual baggage.

"What--what are you _doing _here?" she finally managed to ask, lips a mere inch from his own.

"Attempting to right a wrong committed by us both," he sighed, lips sliding down her jaw line to kiss her throat. She reached up to trace his features, blades of her fingers exploring his noble brow, high cheek bones, and dimpled chin. His eyes slid closed under her gentle touch. He he'd known it all along, been so certain she could be gentle, if she wanted to.

"And what would that be?" she questioned, ever the detective.

"Turning our backs on love," he answered, kissing the tips of her fingers. He closed his lips about them, biting ever so gently, pulling a sigh of enjoyment from deep in her throat.

She'd had dreams like this. So many dreams, that shattered with the harsh reality of the morning light. But here, in shadows, suddenly so much seemed like it could be possible. Like it could be real.

Vicki paused, and he could practically hear the wheels turning now. She was waking up _too _much. Latent desires were shrinking behind the shields of logic fortifying behind her eyes.

"_Stop_," he groaned plaintively.

"I didn't _do _anything."

"You're thinking. Analyzing. Too much."

And he fell upon her, devouring her mouth the way he'd longed to since the moment he first laid eyes upon her. She groaned, squirming against him, raising up on elbows just to get a little closer in a moment of abandon.

When at last she came up for air, gasping in surprise and near asphyxiation, she managed to sputter, "Henry, I--We--" before he took her lips again. He kicked off his shoes, crawling up upon the bed, settling down atop her. The weight of his body over hers felt ridiculously delicious, and somehow willpower and the desire to save some face were quickly flying out the window.

"Just say yes, Vicki," he begged between kisses. "Yield to me tonight. Trust me tonight."

With a will that near equated an unnatural feat of strength, Vikki tore away once more. "But--"

Henry paused in his attentions, pressing his lips together in frustration, waiting, knowing what came next.

What always came next.

He waited for the fall of the axe. The biting sting of rejection.

Vikki's heart caught in her throat, along with the words that she knew she should say. That her life didn't seem to have a chance of getting any less dangerous. That he deserved better. That he was a prince, and what the hell was he doing pining for her?

Vikki found her hand rising to brush a curl from his face, to cup his cheek. His eyes clenched closed, and her heart broke as she watched a single tear tinged with blood roll down his perfect cheek. She wasn't sure who was more surprised, she or him, when her hand traveled down the column of his throat, tracing the collar of his shirt, and flipping open the first button. His eyes flew wide open, filled with wonder, and questions, and a wild need that threatened to burn her up with its intensity.

Finally, it was only one word that could slip past the knot in her throat.

"_Yes_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

She expected him to lose no time, to swoop down upon her with vampire speed. But his next action was slow and deliberate, as he cupped the back of her head lovingly, and plied her with a kiss filled with passion and longing. His mouth traveled down, nipping the lobe of her ear, pausing above the pulse of her neck. It nearly vibrated to his vampire senses, blood pumping, filled with desire.

Before he could move on, she leaned into him more, angling her head in a way that stretched that swan neck to perfection, a beautiful sweep of anatomy. "_Yes_, Henry," she said once more, voice filled with the heat of love and the abandon of giving in to that which one wants most in the world, and he took her meaning immediately. No more hesitation, no more second thoughts. At least for that night, they could share everything.

"In good time, my love," he assured her, planting a languorous kiss upon her neck. He fully intended to have her, in every way, but he would do it in the proper order. Now that he'd finally won the permission he craved, there was no need to do everything all at once.

He sat still above her, staring down with the stillness only the undead can achieve, completely motionless yet somehow so very _alive, _eyes glittering with a predator's stare. The vampire studied her carefully, taking in everything, cataloguing every plane and curve. Vicky felt completely at a disadvantage, because she could barely see anything in the shadows of her bedroom. Henry briefly considered turning on the bedside lamp for her, before shooing the idea away. Tonight would be about sensation; vision wasn't important, for what he intended to do to her.

As the seconds ticked away Vicki became more and more confused, wondering what the vampire was waiting for. "Is something wrong?" she asked quietly, fearing the worst. Emotions ran so high at the moment, that every little thing had the potential to be blown ten times out of proportion.

"No, not at all," he said gently. "You see, I've had so much time to compile a list of things I want to do to you, that its _very _long by now. I'm trying to decide where to start."

In spite of herself, the PI smiled through her veil of tears, swatting at his shoulder. "You're killing me."

"No more than you've been killing me for the past year," he countered with a fey smile, completely unapologetic. He stood from the bed, drawing down the sheet that covered her, slowly, enjoying the unveiling of her lithe body inch by inch. She wore a camisole, black lace panties, and nothing else.

Perfect.

"You're so beautiful," he groaned, finally tossing the sheet to the foot of the bed. She watched hungrily as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing the garment into an unimportant heap upon the floor. Vicki marveled at his figure, the muscles so toned and pale, a marble Adonis here in her bedroom, preparing to make love to her. Was this real?

Kneeling at her feet, the vampire took one into his careful hands, kissing her instep. Slowly his lips traveled up her long leg, paying service to the graceful curve of her calf, the blade of her shin, the sensitive skin behind her knee.

Apparently one of the things on his list for her was _torture_, but she took it gladly, elated to feel his lips and hands on her skin. Though he'd always been a gifted student, over centuries Henry had perfected the art of lighting a woman afire, how to take her to the shining edge with a silk blindfold over her eyes, a smile upon her lips all the while.

"And you're also stubborn," he continued, tongue flicking over the inside of her thigh, causing her to squirm with pleasure. Vicki bit her lip but could not suppress a cry, causing the vampire to smile smugly.

Was he punishing her on purpose? Oh, maybe _just_ a little.

"_And_ infuriating."

Strong hands pressed upon her thighs, spreading them slightly, making room for his attentions. He ghosted over her sex with a breath but moved higher, opting to pull down the waistline of her panties, planting a wet kiss over the hollow of her hipbone. "But even so, I love you," he confessed, hands moving to push the camisole up, exposing the flat plane of her belly.

"You're infuriating too," she protested, sighing as he kissed her above her pubic bone, and slowly moved north to dip his tongue into her belly button. "And smug. And proud!" His teeth grazing her ribcage caused her voice to crack, and the smugness in question made evident by the smile that curled his lips.

"Go on?" he taunted, raising the shirt higher still. She watched him as he bared her breasts to the cool night air, their eyes locked in an achingly intimate gaze. Her nipples had hardened to pebbles, taut and pink, and not from the cold. She sat up slightly, allowing him to pull the shirt over her head, and as she seemed to be struck speechless for the moment, he lowered to take one nipple into his mouth gently, swirling the aureole with his tongue. Vicki's back bowed, her hands flying to bury in his untamable curls, so unbelievably soft.

"And a million other things, good and bad," she panted, as he moved to the other, not wanting it to be jealous. "And because of them _all_, I love you."

Henry's mouth left her breast to suddenly lock upon her lips, arms sliding beneath her shoulders to gather her to him. "Say it again," he demanded, growling with need as he explored every corner of her mouth, fiery lips moving down the line of her jaw, nibbling her earlobe, teeth scraping against her pulse. But he did not break the skin, though he dearly wanted to taste her. _Not yet, FitzRoy_, he scolded himself. _Patience has gotten you this far, don't ruin it now._

He loved the feel of her bare breasts pressed against the flat of his chest, her hips raising beneath him to grind into his obvious arousal. She squirmed beneath him, so impatient, the neediest he'd ever witnessed her. Finally, at long last, that iron control broken into pieces. He wanted her to want him more than she'd ever wanted _anything_, and he was succeeding with flying colors.

"I love you, Henry Fitzroy," she declared firmly, nails digging into his back as he tongued the dip of her collarbone. Shifting his weight to the side, Henry continued to kiss her, his hand sliding down her taut abdomen to slip inside her panties. Long fingers combed through curls, circling the secret bud between her legs.

As he slipped a single finger inside her their moans became a chorus of desire.

"_My God_, you're wet," he groaned, marveling at the multitude of hot moisture pooled in the cradle of her hips. For him, all for him, he thought possessively. "All this pent up passion," he teased, moving his fingers slowly, sliding in a second. "Where's it all to go?"

As though in answer, Vicki bucked her hips forward, grinding against his skilled hand. Her hand went to unbuckle his belt, demanding, "_Off_."

Happily, he complied, removing pants and underwear faster than her eyes could follow, even if she could have seen a thing in the dark. But she didn't need her sight, for suddenly Henry was above her, his weight pushing her down into the soft mattress, the feel of his velvety manhood hot against her belly driving her mad.

"Please," she begged, hooking a leg about his hip to signal exactly what she wanted. He moved lower, positioning himself between her legs, swollen head hovering at her slick entrance. The heat emanating from her was driving _him _mad, and he felt as though she hypnotized him with the need in her blue gaze, their eyes locked intimately.

"As my lady wishes." Henry was more than happy to comply, pushing inside her, slowly thrusting to make room until he was sheathed completely inside. She cried out happily, burying her face in the bend of his neck, fingers clutching at his back and shoulders. He shuddered as her tight walls squeezed against him, as she tested the length and breadth of him inside her. Oh, and he was _exactly_ what she wanted.

Kissing her gently, he began to move inside her, holding himself up with strong arms she explored with eager fingers. Her nails teasing lightly across the muscles of his chest nearly caused him to lose his concentration, and he fought not to thrust into her wildly, with ecstatic abandon. His gradually quickening thrusts caused her to throw her head back into the pillow, and she squirmed as he bumped her cervix, grinding against her in ways that sent chills across her entire body. She'd never felt anything like this with _anyone_, and she wondered if it was vampire power, or simply the intense need they felt to be intimate with each other. This mind-blowing pleasure went on and on, longer than she could have imagined possible.

"Someone's an athlete," she teased breathily as he rolled them, so she could be on top. There were a thousand and one positions he wanted to try with her, but he knew he could only try a few _that _night. Time, that treacherous whore, would rob them of the opportunity. But perhaps it would be best, not to do everything at once. They would save something for later, they would ensure there _would be _a later, he reasoned, barely able to think as she arched her back above him, clutching his hands to her breasts as she impaled herself upon him, golden hair waving about her as a halo of light.

But the thought that somehow, by some fluke of fate, they still would not be together after this suddenly pained him greatly, so much that he turned them again, sliding into her from behind, so that she could not see the turmoil written across his face.

"Turn like this, lover," he sighed into her hair, tilting her hips back towards him with a guiding hand, scraping teeth against the back of her neck and causing her lithe body to arch again like a cat. She was ridiculously flexible, and the sudden tightness surrounding him stole a groan from deep in his chest, nearly a growl. The urge to sink his fangs into her was quickly growing too much to ignore, and he fought with his inner beast to wait just a little longer.

They were both tumbling quickly towards the edge. His shaft at this angle brushed her g-spot, and her strong hands gripped his in her ardor, her need to anchor herself to something real as this pressure built inside her, threatening to uproot her from reality.

When she pulled away Henry was shocked, clearly, by the expression upon his face. She smiled mischievously as she rolled onto her back, breathing deeply. The smell of their mingled sweat and other bodily fluids perfumed the air. She crooked a finger to the puzzled vampire.

"Take me like this again," she requested softly, spreading her legs, wanting missionary once more. She seemed so unbelievably vulnerable at that moment, needed him so much, that for a moment Henry felt sure this couldn't really be his Victoria. But it was, and she was here, naked with him, giving herself to him.

"Please," she pleaded. "I need to be _close _to you." Though it seemed redundant, for how much closer could they get? Henry understood her desire to be completely enveloped by her lover, and happily he complied, sliding inside her once more, wrapping his arms about her shoulders. With a satisfied sigh she buried herself in the bend of his neck, nipping playfully as he buried himself inside her. Her legs parted even more, one hooking around the curve of his hip, heel digging into his backside to urge him deeper still.

With the senses his dark gift bestowed upon him, Henry knew she was nearing the edge, could feel it in her pulse, her life and heat vibrating against him and through him, as though for the moment he too was alive again, while connecting to her most secret space. He kissed her neck, tonguing the throbbing pulse, and his bloodlust urged him to sink fang as they were seconds away from completion.

That shining pleasure began to take them, and also his control, and he could not hold his hunger back any longer. He sank fangs into her neck, drinking deeply, pushing them both over into the abyss. Their orgasm lasted as a golden circle of pleasure, lasting for the both of them for as long as he fed. Vicki never imagined a vampire bite could feel so ridiculously good, crying out as she writhed below him, nails digging into his muscular shoulders.

Henry forced himself to pull back, before he took too much, and with the hot satiation of blood in his belly, and the almost _too _pleasurable sensation of her walls still spasming around him, he collapsed against her, licking the wound so that it would stop bleeding, shrinking to two almost unnoticeable pinpricks.

Languidly, she kissed the sensitive skin behind his ear, biting his earlobe gently. "You've turned my bones to mush," she sighed, utterly incapable of any sort of ambitious movement.

"And you mine," he agreed, smiling when she gave a small sound of protest, as he slid from her, gathering her into his arms. They dozed like that for a little while, Henry incapable of human rest, but Vicki teetering on the brink of total exhaustion already. Perhaps he'd taken a little bit more blood than he should have, but at the time he couldn't tear himself away. Still, she didn't really seem to mind.

"Please don't tell me you're still going to leave me," she grumbled after a while, tracing lazy figure eights across his chest.

"Please don't tell me you're still not coming with me," he countered. She could only give them so much peace, couldn't she? He thought this with a smile though, and kissed the top of her head, brushing his cheek against her soft hair.

"Henry, I'm marked. These tattoos aren't going away. Who says Astaroth couldn't just follow us, no matter where we go?"

"He could, but he knows this town now. He has contacts here, knows bodies, people, places. It makes it easier for him to cause mischief, easier every time he comes back. It's good to keep a demon guessing."

Vicki bit her lip, considering his offer quietly, moving to lie upon the space between his pectorals, a cradle fitted perfectly for her head. To her surprise, Henry's heart was beating, albeit a bit more slowly than a human. "Your heart's beating," she sighed.

"After _that_, how could it not?" he teased, until Vicki sat up to regard him seriously. Henry cradled her face in his hands, leaning forward to claim her lips, already swollen from fervent kisses. "You make me feel alive again, Vicki. So say you'll come with me."

She swallowed, hard, and he could see the wheels grinding once more. Complacent Vicki was gone, over-analytical Vicki had returned. So sadly he sat still as a statue, waiting for the delivery of his rejection. Only _she_ could possibly say no to him, after a night like they just shared. His heart began to sink as she opened her mouth to speak. _Damn you, Vicki Nelson, _he grumbled internally, as tears welled in his eyes at the thought of being apart from her.

"Then…where are we going?"

Henry blinked, suddenly unsure of his hearing, certain his senses were putting words in her mouth.

"Excuse me?"

Vicki looked around, suddenly unsure. Had she misinterpreted his offer? "Where…where do you want to go? With me?" she asked again, her heart pounding with uncertainty.

But the realization that he had heard correctly the first time hit Henry as a ton of bricks, causing a blinding smile to split his features. Vicki squealed as he fell upon her, rolling them so that he leaned over her, strong arms holding her as he plied her with joyful kisses. "You mean it? You'll run away with me?" he demanded.

"Yes, yes, Henry! Damn it!" she exclaimed, laughing as he tickled her with his mouth, soft lips suddenly everywhere upon her skin. "But _where_? Where are we going?" she pursued, ever the relentless detective.

Henry pulled back to gaze down at her, a beautiful smile firing his eyes alight. His fingers moved to brush her hair from her eyes, fingertips exploring her features, the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose, to the swell of her lower lip.

She smiled too, and for the first time in a long time, she felt absolutely sure about a serious life decision. It had been a long time. She hadn't been sure about anything about Mike, or leaving the force, or even opening a P.I. agency.

But this? This felt absolutely right.

So for once, Victoria Nelson was going to follow her heart, and not that cold mistress, Logic.

Henry answered his lover, leaning down for a kiss, "Anywhere we want, my lady. _Anywhere_ we want."

**Fin**


End file.
